


All We Are

by LamiaCalls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/pseuds/LamiaCalls
Summary: Neville has just gotten used to being the Herbology professor, but it's all thrown out of whack when Draco Malfoy is appointed the new Potions Master.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 148
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	All We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



Neville Longbottom was sequestered in his greenhouse, as usual, hands plunged into the cool, damp soil as he checked the roots of a mandrake. It was easier to do that then to pull them out and deal with the ear-splitting screams — besides, he usually left that for his Second Years to experience, like his predecessor had done.

The roots were taking shape nicely, and would be ready in time for when the school year started, just under a week from now.

He looked up to the sound of a knuckle tapping against the glass door of the greenhouse, and saw Professor M— _Minerva_ , he reminded himself. Minerva. His second year of teaching and still he struggled with it.

“Neville,” Minerva said. The smile on her face was tight and overly polite. It was obvious why, when Neville looked at the man standing next to her, and immediately recognised the platinum blonde hair and the sharp jaw. “I don’t think I need to give any introductions. I wanted to announce that I finally filled our Potions position.”

Neville tightened his jaw, but then immediately tried to relax it. He didn’t want to come off as rude or unprofessional in front of Minerva, but he most certainly could feel his cheeks flush and his heart beat a little faster when confronted with the man who had not been particularly kind to him in their school years. A man who, while he had eventually defected, had worked on the side of the people who had tortured his parents and friends.

“Right,” Neville managed to get out. “Good to see you, Draco.”

Draco looked just as uncomfortable as Neville felt, truly.

“You too,” he said.

They stood, looking at each other, until Minerva cleared her throat.

“Right. Well, that out of the way, we’ll leave you to it, Neville,” she said brightly. “I’m sure you two will have plenty of time to get to catch up, since Potions does work so closely with Herbology.”

“Yes,” Neville said. How could he forget? “I’ll see you around, no doubt.”

Draco just nodded quickly, before scurrying out behind Minerva.

When they were out of sight, Neville let out his breath and ran his hands over his face. Draco wasn’t exactly the worst person to work with — it wasn’t like he was being forced to put on a happy face while rubbing shoulders with one of the Carrows or Rabastan Lestrange — or hell, even Draco’s father. But he wouldn’t be Neville’s first pick either, not by a long shot.

But it would be fine, he told himself firmly, turning back to his plants. If there was one thing Neville was good at, it was making things work no matter how difficult they appeared.

Still, all the same, he took dinner in his room that night rather than in the Hall. He told himself he just wanted some peace and quiet before the whole school was bustling with students. Extremely loud students.

***

Neville managed to avoid Draco for the next few nights, too. It wasn’t difficult — he needed to spend all the time he could in the greenhouse, and Draco was presumably busy setting up for his first year teaching. At least Minerva had constructed a curriculum ready, just in case she had ended up the only one able to teach.

It was on the last night before the first day of term, and Neville decided to take a walk through the halls of Hogwarts, savouring every moment of silence before a hoard of 11 to 18 year olds descended upon him. He’d taught only one year so far, and he was ill-prepared for the stampede, that much he knew.

As he rounded the corner, he almost bumped into the only person more ill-prepared than he: Draco Malfoy himself. There was no point pretending he hadn’t seen him; they were colleagues now, they would have to get used to each other.

Draco was studying the black scorch marks on the wall. Neville had stopped noticing them after the first year, but now he reached a hand out to brush one.

“From the Battle,” he said quietly.

“I thought that’s what it was,” Draco said. It might have been Neville’s imagination, but he detected a quaver in the other man’s voice.

“Minerva thought it best to leave them up,” Neville said. “As a reminder, you know.”

“Makes sense,” he said. Then he looked up at Neville. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to calling her Minerva.”

“You should hear Pansy,” Neville said.

“Calling her Minnie!” Draco said, aghast. “Oh, I know, I couldn’t believe it when she told me.”

Neville chuckled. “But that’s Pansy for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” Draco sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was also surprised, I suppose, when she told me that you and she were friends.”

“I think it was a surprise to both of us, honestly.” He shrugged. “Time’s are different now. Even for the First Years — you’ll see tomorrow, there’s just none of that tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor like there once was. Plus, Pansy doesn’t put up with any bullshit.”

“Honestly, I would have been terrified of Pansy if she were my Head of House.”

“You weren’t afraid of Severus?”

Draco shook his head. “Were you— oh, wait, I remember Lupin’s class, with the boggart!”

Neville blushed.

“I will never, ’til the day I die, forget you putting him in your grandmother’s clothes. That was hilarious. But I still can’t believe how scared you were of him!”

“I was kind of a wimp back then.”

“Eh, we were all pretty scared, I think,” Draco said. He looked down at the floor. “Some of us just showed it more readily.”

“I guess,” Neville said.

The hallway was quite dark, and so it was hard to read Draco’s expression — but there seemed to be something like guilt that slid across it, if only for an instant. Then it was back to his usual placid expression, and the silence yawned between them.

“I, uh, better get moving,” Neville said.

“Right, right,” Draco said. He looked back at the wall. “Yeah, I need to get my bearings again. It’s been ages since I was back. I’ve been trying to remember all the hallways and classrooms.”

“It won’t feel right until tomorrow,” Neville said. “Once there are people in it, you’ll remember all the secret passages and stuff. That’s how it was my first year.”

Much to his surprise, Draco gave him an actual smile in response.

“Thanks.”

Neville nodded, and moved past him to take the staircase that would bring him into the foyer. He wanted to get some fresh air, and this was his last chance to do it without having to check for students snogging behind statues.

As he walked, listening to the whomp of the willow and the gentle sound of the wind stirring the water of the Lake, he thought how strange it was to talk to Draco Malfoy, of all people, as if they were two old acquaintances, and not people who had so much baggage that it was a wonder they weren’t collapsing under the weight of it.

***

As always, the first few weeks of term went by in the blink of an eye, and before Neville knew it, it was October and the nights were getting shorter. He slipped back into his term time routine easily: days in the greenhouse, evenings after dinner spent either tending to his plants (without the indelicate hands of students) or reading a book in the little armchair of his room. The weekends always varied, and were almost always at the mercy of Pansy Parkinson’s whims.

Sometimes, he pretended to be annoyed about that fact. Most of the time, she reminded him that otherwise he could easily go without talking to another adult for days and that he actually enjoyed being dragged down to Hogsmeade, or for a private piss-up in her room where they polished off old bottles of liquor left by Slughorn, who had occupied it before her.

“You know, you should give him a chance,” Pansy said, poking him with her be-socked foot during one of these piss-ups. She had already finished most of the cherry liqueur but she could always hold her own when it came to drinking.

“Who?” Neville asked, finishing his glass of some of the worst port he’d ever tasted.

“Draco!” Pansy exclaimed, as if that had been what they were talking about (which they definitely hadn’t been — Neville was sober enough to know that). “He needs friends.”

Neville snorted. “I am not going to become _friends_ with our little lord of darkness.”

Pansy poked him with her toe harder.

“I’m being serious,” she said. She sat up, looked at him without her usual devilish smile. “Haven’t you noticed him hanging around the hallways? He’s like a sad pale ghost.”

Neville grinned. “Yeah, he does seem to be drifting.”

“He _was_ the little lord of darkness,” Pansy said, sniffing. “But that was a long time ago. Now he’s just lonely I think.”

“He’s not bloody lonely,” Neville said, swatting away her foot. “Will you stop doing that?”

“Have you seen hi with anyone? Even Binns avoids him, and Binns’ll take any opportunity to spout nonsense — ugh, did I tell you about last year’s Christmas party?”

“Yes, you did,” Neville said. “So I’m meant to feel sorry for him? He’s was an arse in school, and I’ve seen no evidence to contradict that yet.”

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out a big sigh.

“I’m cutting you off, I hate when you start getting all grumpy,” she said. “He’s not so bad. He feels genuinely bad, and he does all sorts to make amends these days — I think he even got involved in a squib charity or some shit. He does a lot more than I do, and you haven’t held it against me.”

Neville grumbled, but found it hard to argue against that.

“Well, you didn’t really bully me, not the way he did. And you weren’t, you know, a full on Death Eater, were you?”

Pansy levelled Neville with a look. “Hey. Do you remember when I said we should give Harry over to Lord Voldemort during the Battle?”

Neville blinked. Then, after a moment, he nodded.

“But you’re different now,” he said. “You wouldn’t pull that kind of thing anymore.”

“ _He’s_ different too, that’s what I’m telling you. People are shitheads as teenagers, that doesn’t mean that’s them for life. Give him a chance, Neville,” Pansy said. “Besides, I don’t know. I still think Harry is a bit of a toe rag and I wouldn’t miss him.”

Neville didn’t respond; rising to Pansy’s bait was always, _always_ a mistake. He’d learnt that the hard way.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and harrumphed at her little cry of a victory. “You are extremely annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Every day,” Pansy said, wearing a very self-satisfied grin.

***

Draco was the one to approach Neville, in the end. It was about a week later and, after dinner had finished, Neville had come back to the greenhouse to tend some of the more poisonous plants that he kept out of reach of his students. Neville had almost lost himself entirely to his work, when Draco clearing his throat alerted him to another presence.

“Um,” was all Draco said at first. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Draco, what a pleasant surprise,” Neville offered.

Draco perked up a little at this warm reception. Neville had conceded after that night with Pansy; the man seemed lonely and only ever spoke to Pansy. So while he was not particularly keen to make friends, he would at least be friendly.

“I came, uh, to check how the plants for potions were coming on,” Draco said. The words sounded rehearsed, a little insincere. But Neville wasn’t exactly going to point this out.

“Oh sure,” Neville said. “I can show you.”

He inclined his head to his hands, inviting Draco in closer. The other man sidled up to him and looked down. For several moments, they stood side-by-side in silence, before Draco finally spoke again.

“Um, if I’m honest, I have no idea what I’m looking at,” he said.

Neville rattled off the names of plants easily, and what parts would be eventually delivered to Draco.

“I’m a little behind on the shrivelfig -- my second years accidentally pruned the fruit right off this one,” Neville said, pointing to the little bushel in the corner. “Luckily, the rest should be fine.”

“I’m not doing any potions that involve them for a term yet.” Draco looked around the greenhouse, eyes wide. “How do you remember the names of all these?”

Neville shrugged. “Practice, really. And, well, I don’t know half the names of potions, so I’ve got the space for it.”

“I guess. I… I wouldn’t mind learning off of you, you know.”

“Really?” Neville said. His eyebrows went higher than he thought possible. “You want to learn herbology?”

Draco shrugged, looked down at his feet, before looking back at Neville.

“It would be good to know, at least for Potions sake. I didn’t really pay attention, back in school.”

“Yeah, lots of people treat it as a bit of an easy class,” Neville said. “I mean, sure. Okay. I’m out here most nights. Come after dinner some time, I’ll teach you some gardening skills.”

“Right. I’ll do that.”

Despite that declaration, it still came as some surprise to Neville when Draco actually began to turn up, interested and curious in all the flora in the greenhouse. At first, it was painfully awkward and they spoke only of plants. But as the weeks passed, and Draco came to the greenhouse two or three evenings a week, Neville felt himself begin to relax around him.

Before he knew it, it was mid-November, and while that was a lull in everyone else’s term, for Neville it meant he needed to check on all his winter flora. Draco had joined him that evening, skipping dinner — they needed the full evening.

Most of the work was inspecting leaves for rot, checking the buds, ensuring all his plants for next term had ample room to grow in, as well as taking a proper inventory of what was coming in. Plants were like magic, and more of an art than a science. It took careful care and attention, but also a lot of instinct and luck. But he always planted in abundance; there was enough room in the greenhouse to justify it, after all.

As they wound down their studious couple of hours, he called Draco over to the soil bed he was working on.

The victorus bulbs were particularly prone to a disease that made them spongey and no good to anyone, so Neville wanted a hand in manually checking them. After a little hesitation, he managed to convince Draco to stick his hands in the soil where one bud was, and Neville did the same for the bud next to it. The soil was cool and moist, as it was meant to be.

“Can you feel that?” he said. “You have to dig down a bit — don’t worry about breaking any of it, they’re hardier than they seem.”

Draco’s brow furrowed as his hands went searching through the soil.

“What am I looking for again?” he said.

“It’ll feel like a pebble, but it’s actually the bulb,” Neville said.

Draco shook his head, pulling his hands back out far too quickly, and Neville tried not to react to all the resulting soil spilling over onto the floor.

“Can’t feel a thing.”

Neville sighed.

“Alright, hang on,” Neville said, and came around to stand behind Draco. If he was going to be dainty and not really try, Neville would have to get more hands-on with the lesson. He felt Draco stiffen for just a second, but nonetheless, he let Neville take his hands and plunge them back into the soil. Never in his life did he think he’d be that close to a one Draco Malfoy, but it was surprisingly pleasant. Draco smelt of warm leather and sandalwood, and something sharp and tangy, probably from whatever potion he’d cooked up that day. And he wasn’t sure why it was a surprise, but his hands were delicate and soft, much softer than Neville’s, which bore the signs of his manual work.

Draco cleared his throat, and with a start, Neville realised he had just been standing there, enjoying the warmth of him. He quickly began moving their hands through the dirt.

“So,” he said. “Okay, do you feel those little roots?”

Draco nodded, and as he did so, his hair brushed against Neville’s cheek.

“Um, yeah, so. You want to follow the roots, basically. See if we go this way, they’re getting thicker and bigger? So we know we’re travelling in the right direction. And there — there it is. That hard little nubbin?”

“Oh,” Draco said. “Is that it? I thought it’d be much bigger.”

Neville shook his head. “Nah, it’s only a little thing, you know? But it’s got a lot of power in it.”

Neville released Draco’s hands, and he expected Draco to immediately pull them out of the soil, but he didn’t. Instead, he said: “When do you know it’s ready?”

And was it Neville’s imagination, or had Draco leant back into him as he said that? Not by much, just a minuscule amount, just enough for Neville to doubt whether it was all in his head or not. Neville didn’t move.

“Well, it won’t be ready until the bud has flowered. So you’ve got another few weeks left at least. It’s a winter blooming plant.”

Draco nodded again. They stood, unmoving. It was quite strange to think that if Neville just moved his arms, he would be embracing him. It was stranger yet that he didn’t mind that idea.

Before any other errant thoughts got the better of him, he stepped away.

“I better clear up this mess you’ve made all over my floor.”

“Oh shit,” Draco said, looking down. “Sorry, was that me?”

“Yes, yes it was,” Neville said. He grabbed a dustpan and brush from the corner.

“You know you’ve got a wand right?” Draco said, an eyebrow arched. He had turned and was now leaning against the wooden side of the bed.

“I could, but this’ll only take a second,” Neville said. He bent down, sweeping between Draco’s legs. “You know you could help, right?”

To his surprise, Draco laughed in response, before joining Neville, crouched on the floor.

“Give it here then,” he said, taking the dustpan and brush from Neville’s hands.

Neville stood up and watched him brush up the dirt. He did a piss poor job, but Neville decided that now wasn’t the time to mention it.

“Pansy must be very pleased about all this,” he said instead. He still felt tense, the imprint of Draco’s warm body against him burned on his skin.

“About what?”

“Us spending time together. I assume she bullied you into asking for these lessons?”

Draco looked up with a frown.

“What are you talking about?”

“Pansy… She had the same talk with you that she did with me?”

“What talk?”

Neville’s cheeks were pink.

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

Draco finished the sweeping, and they walked back to the castle together. The tension was still thick in the air, though Neville wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t all in his head. Neville was just grateful to get back into the safe space of his room. His brain was buzzing, though he still couldn’t work out why.

But mainly, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Draco had apparently volunteered to spend time with him, unprompted by Pansy. Not just time, but alone time. Subjected to lectures on plants, just because…he wanted to. It made absolutely no sense and it troubled him right up until he was finally able to fall asleep.

***

Draco and he began to spend more time together after that. Something about knowing it wasn’t mandated by Pansy gave their interactions a lighter, easier air and Neville found himself able to relax around him.

Draco wasn’t nearly as energetic as Pansy, but that was, in some ways, a good thing. Double Pansy Parkinson would be more than Neville could truly handle. He was surprised to find that Draco was, instead, just as sharp and, on the rare occasions he made jokes, quite funny too.

One unseasonably sunny Sunday afternoon, they took a walk down around the Lake, chatting not about potions and plants, but instead about Neville’s summer holiday in Egypt, and how different the magical society there was.

“Hello lover boys,” Pansy said brightly, appearing from Merlin knew where, as Pansy was wont to do. “Enjoying an afternoon stroll?”

“Enjoying the sun, yes.” He decided to ignore the first comment. Responding would only make her tease more.

“Thank Merlin, I was shrivelling up. I’m so excited to be warm, even if it’s just for the moment. Where are you guys headed?”

Neville looked to Draco, who just shrugged.

“Nowhere in particular,” he said.

Pansy narrowed her eyes, before her expression returned to something more placid.

“I’m surprised you’re not arm in arm,” she said idly, as if were an innocent statement.

Neville immediately felt his cheeks flare red.

“What’re you on about?” he said, unable to stop himself.

“You know, with you two mooning over each other,” she said, the corner of her lips curling into a smile.

Ah, so that was her game. To embarrass him.

“We’re not _mooning_ over each other,” he said, but he knew he was responding too vehemently, too quickly. “We’re just friends, taking a walk.”

“Mmmm,” Pansy said. “Well, I better be getting on. Enjoy your walk.”

And, just like that, she wandered off, as if she hadn’t just thrown a chaotic bomb in Neville’s path.

“I can’t believe her,” he said to Draco quickly.

“Oh, ignore her, she’s just teasing. She used to say that about Blaise and I too,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“And were Blaise and you…?” Neville said. He immediately hated how hopeful he sounded.

Draco shook his head, lips pursed. After a moment, he said, “No, Blaise isn’t, you know.”

Neville nodded, and tried to keep his face straight. Was the implication that if Blaise wasn’t, Draco was? His brain immediately started sparking just about a million thoughts, not that it mattered of course. Why in the world should it matter to him whether Draco was interested in men? No, it definitely didn’t.

And yet, he spent most of his dinner distracted by the thought.

***

A few days later, Neville found himself in the staff room, lounging back on one of the sofas, with Pansy. At first, Sybill Trelawney was giving them their fortunes, but she eventually remembered, 15 minutes late, that she actually had a class that period, and so the two friends were left alone.

“So, you and Draco are getting along swimmingly,” she said, her face plastered with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, turns out he’s actually good company,” Neville said, studiously avoiding the bait. “We’re becoming good friends.”

“Looked like more than friends to me,” she said. “Can’t seem to spend time outside of each other’s pockets.”

Neville glared at her.

“He told me you used to say that about Blaise and he too.”

“And I was right then too.”

“He said—“

“Alright, I was wrong about Blaise, I was 100% right about Draco. Ask him yourself, he fancied the pants off Blaise for like 2 years solid.”

“Did he — did he tell you that— what did he—“

“He hasn’t said anything about you, but I know. Call it women’s intuition.”

“Mmm,” Neville grumbled.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I was right about him fancying Blaise. I was right when he was all googly-eyed over Astoria, and when he had a crush on Hermione—“

“Wait, _what_?”

“Oh, it only lasted for about a week, don’t even worry about it,” Pansy said, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, I’m telling you. I’m practically a Draco whisperer when it comes to these things. And I can tell you with 100% certainty that the boy is mooning over you something rotten. Honestly.”

He tried to process this information, but his brain was having a hard time with it. It was too unwieldy to neatly fit into any existing schema.

“What makes you so sure I feel the same way about him?”

Pansy rolled her eyes again. “Because I’m not blind?”

Neville clenched his jaw.

“He’s attractive. I obviously find him attractive, who in their right mind wouldn’t—“

“Eh,” Pansy said, shrugging.

“Okay, I said _right mind_ and you’re clearly stark raving. But he’s just a friend. Just because I want to shag him, doesn’t mean I want anymore than that.”

“Have you ever had casual sex, Neville?” Pansy said. There was a fire in her eyes that made it quite clear that she wasn’t going to back down from this line of questioning. But that was okay, because nor would Neville.

“Yes, actually!“

“Have you ever had casual sex that _hasn’t_ ended up becoming a relationship?”

That one stumped him. He pursed his lips, trying to think.

“Ahah! Yes! Remember that guy I met the summer before last—“ Neville started but Pansy wagged a finger at him.

“You pined over him for _months_. I mean, where you didn’t _want_ it to become a relationship.”

“Oh,” Neville said. He was wracking his brain but coming up truly empty. “I guess not then.”

“So you’re wanting to shag Draco is suspiciously more than just lust, I reckon.” Pansy sighed, and stretched. “Right, I better get to class.”

“You’re just going to leave me with all of that?”

Pansy grinned. “I’m merely the messenger. It is up to you to do with it what you wish.”

And with that, she got up off the sofa, booped Neville on the nose (he harrumphed in response) and trailed out of the staff room with the look of the cat who got the cream. He could have killed her.

But before he could come up with a way to slip poison into her cup, he would need to reckon with all of this new information and work out precisely what he was meant to do with it.

***

It was strangely easy to believe that any feelings he had were those of friendship when he was with Draco. It was harder when he was away from him. Without reality to ground him, his imagination ran riot. How could he pretend that his late night thoughts about Draco were anything close to normal friendly feelings?

When Draco ended up not joining him in the greenhouse one night, he decided enough was enough. He trailed his sorry self to Pansy’s office, where thankfully, she still was, marking homework.

“You look like shit,” she said cheerfully.

“I feel it,” Neville said, and threw himself into the chair next to her.

“Don’t tell me. Did a rot get into your mandrakes and now you have to throw the lot out?”

Neville shook his head. “Worse than that.”

Pansy sat up straighter at that, placing her quill down on her desk.

“Worse than _that_? Shit, this must be bad. Out with it, then,” she said. Her voice was stern but she placed a gentle hand on his knee.

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right. About what?”

“About Draco. About my definitely-not-platonic feelings for him.”

Pansy squealed in delight. “What set this off?”

“He didn’t come to the greenhouse tonight when he said he would, and I was so excited to spend more time with him. Can’t really pretend I don’t care about it when I feel so rotten.”

He buried his head in his hands.

“This is great, what are you are talking about? Why are you here, in my office and not snogging the face off him?”

“Because it’s _terrible_ , Pansy. He’s Draco fucking Malfoy. I’m not meant to have feelings for my old bully.”

“Merlin! It was bloody years ago, and a lot has changed. You don’t have to marry the guy tomorrow, but do yourself a favour and give him a chance, will you?” Pansy pulled his hands away from his face. “Hey. You’re a grown man, Professor Longbottom. You can at least go and talk to him about it.”

“ _Talk_ to him about it?”

“Yes, it’s this magical thing where people communicate like human beings, and not like schoolboys with crushes.”

Neville grimaced. “I am a schoolboy with a crush.”

“And so is he, though I think he might have realised that before you.” She patted the top of his head. “Seriously. You’re making a much bigger deal of this than it needs to be.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It is, because it’s true. My wisdom is unending, don’t start doubting me now. Look at the trouble doubting me has gotten you in so far.”

He groaned.

“Go and talk to him. Seriously. It’ll make you feel better, at the very least. You don’t have to confess your heart’s desires, but you know. He might want to at least shag and you are desperately in need of one.”

He groaned again. It made sense. It all made sense. And it was true that it _had_ been a while since he was with anyone.

“ _Go_ ,” she said again. This time, she stood up and started to drag him upright. “You can at least spend some time with him. He’s always coming to you, and while it’s ridiculously obvious to me that you’re both besotted with each other, Draco has always been a bit dim when it comes to matters of the heart. If you show some interest, it’ll help.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go…”

“Good luck!” Pansy called as he exited the office, but he was sure he heard her cackle once the door was closed behind him.

Before his brain had a chance to catch up, he began to march down the stairs that would take him to the dungeons. Like she said, he didn’t need to admit anything. And she was right — Draco always came to him, Neville never sought him out. So if Draco _was_ interested, why would he have any suspicion Neville returned those feelings? But that was a big if.

“Just stopping by to see how you are, just stopping by to see how you are,” Neville whispered himself up the corridor. Outside Draco’s room, which would have been Snape’s at some point in the ever-more distant past, he took a deep breath before knocking.

Draco opened only a few seconds lately. His robe was off, with a shirt that was mostly askew, a tie that had been loosened, and mussed hair. He looked positively gorgeous, and it took Neville a moment to realise he was just standing there, silent and dumbstruck.

“Just stopping by to see how you are,” he said. It sounded wooden and rehearsed and transparent as anything. But Draco, thankfully, just nodded. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but that’s probably for the best. Too late to be napping.” Draco looked behind him. “Do you want to come in?”

Neville hesitated, but only for a second. He nodded, and followed him in.

He wasn’t sure he’d been in Draco’s room before. It was exactly how he’d imagined it (and, if he were honest with himself, imagine it he had): clean but messy. There were some clothes left on the rug, a shirt thrown over the back of the chair, a bottle of wine, open and uncorked, on the sideboard.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Draco said, blushing. He hurried to pick the items up from various surfaces. “Help yourself to a drink.”

Neville looked to where he pointed, and found a little cart with liquor and glasses.

“This is something,” Neville said. He plucked a glass out, and began to fix himself a drink.

“Thanks, gift from my dad,” Draco said. He shrugged. “Trying to win back my affections, really.”

Neville grimaced. They mostly avoided talking about their respective families, just as they avoided talking in detail about their high school years.

“Do you not keep in contact with him?”

“I still talk to him. But we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Three guesses for the thing we argue about the most.”

Neville let out a grunt of understanding.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. There’s a lot worse off than me.”

“You really have changed a lot, you know,” Neville said, cocking his head to look at him.

“I hope so.”

Draco collapsed onto the sofa, pouring himself a glass of wine from the already opened bottle. Neville took the seat besides him The room was bigger than Neville’s own, but darker. Still, he couldn’t help but be jealous of the window the sofa faced, which showed the Lake in all its breathtaking glory. Even the scant moonlight that was filtering through the murky water made glorious patterns on the glass.

“Can’t believe Gryffindor missed out on this.”

“It’s beautiful, right? It definitely makes up for how cold it gets down here, especially in the mornings.”

“If I’d have known, I would have visited you earlier than this,” Neville said. He took a sip from his drink.

“I would have liked that.”

Draco said it so quietly that it took a moment for Neville to register it.

“I, uh, missed you down in the greenhouse today,” he said slowly, carefully, watching Draco’s face, which remained infuriatingly blank.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night. I was just gonna come down and get my jacket, and I fell asleep.”

“Is everything alright?”

Draco nodded. “Just ready for the Christmas holiday already. I can’t believe how exhausting this all is. I remember how bratty I was about homework, and now I’d take ten inches on the uses of bezoar over having to mark these things. Half of them don’t even make sense.”

“How good we didn’t know we had it,” Neville said. “It’ll be Christmas before you know it. Honestly, we’ll get to the end of the year and you’ll wonder where all the time went.”

“Are you staying here for Christmas?”

“Yeah. Since my gran passed, not much point in going home. I’ll visit my parents at St. Mungo’s, but I like Hogwarts at Christmas. It’s so quiet and everyone’s relaxed. What about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll pop home for Christmas Day. But the less time I spend at the Manor, the better.”

“No, um, partner to spend the holidays with?” As soon as he said it, he wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth, desperately.

Draco’s smirk made him want to die even more.

“No. You?”

“No.”

They didn’t speak for several moments, and Neville wished that the glass wall would crack and that he’d get sucked into the Lake. But then Draco began to ask him what he usually did over Christmas, who else would be staying, if there was a staff Christmas party (there was, and Neville was quick to warn him to keep out of Sybill’s way during it unless you wanted his certain doom to foretold, which always happened when she had a few drinks too many), and they lapsed back into comfortable chatting.

As the evening wore on, Neville could feel himself getting drunker, especially when, looking at Draco, who glowed with a tipsy merriment, he said: “Is it true? Did you fancy Blaise?”

Draco looked over, confused for just a second. He shrugged.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Yes, completely,” Draco said, and Neville watched his bravado fade. “I told him, eventually. But he wasn’t interested. I have terrible instincts about who’s actually interested in me.”

Neville took a moment to think on this, the alcohol slowing his thoughts down.

“I didn’t have much luck with — well, with anyone. Not until after Hogwarts,” Draco said.

Neville’s eyebrows darted up.

“Really? I thought you were popular,” he said.

“People hung round me because I scared them, not because they liked me,” Draco said with some force. Then he shook his head. “What about you?”

Neville shrugged. “I slept with one person in school. But while people liked me, I think, they weren’t exactly interested in me. I wasn’t exactly, you know, _hot_.”

Draco chuckled. “You were a bit gawky when we were in school.”

“I’m gonna let you have that one,” Neville said, gesturing with his glass. “Mostly ‘cause it was true. Still am.”

Draco gave him a funny look.

“You are most certainly not gawky now,” he said emphatically. “Look at you! Merlin!”

Neville blushed. Draco picked up the conversation again, telling him about some escapades from after Hogwarts, but Neville was feeling emboldened by the drink.

He put a hand out, touching Draco’s knee, expecting him to pull his leg back, but he didn’t. In fact, after a moment, Draco shuffled closer to him. Neville swallowed, tried to listen to what Draco was saying but it was hard when his heart was hammering. Was this enough? Why wasn’t Draco making his own move?

He stroked a finger across Draco’s knee, but the liquid courage in him told him to go one step further. He moved his hand up so it rested mid-thigh.

Draco’s speaking sped up, and now that Neville tuned into what he was saying, he could hear that half of it wasn’t even making that much sense.

“Draco?” Neville said. “What are you even on about, mate?”

Draco stopped talking abruptly and blinked at him.

“I, uh, don’t know.”

His cheeks were pink with alcohol, and his eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. He was too gorgeous to resist. He moved a hand to cup his cheek, and smiled at the little hitch in Draco’s breath.

“Is that alright?” he said softly.

Draco nodded.

“Can I…?” Neville said, moving his face closer.

Draco nodded again, his eyes wide with what was hopefully wonder. Neville took a sharp little breath, and closed the distance between them, his heart beating so hard it was likely to crack his ribs at any moment.

Draco’s mouth was soft and warm, and he tasted of red wine. He pressed softly at first, but then parted his lips and darted a tongue in Draco’s mouth, who responded eagerly. Draco’s hands found their way under his jumper, and began to lightly grab at his back and chest. Neville held Draco’s head in his hands, ran his fingers through his hair.

It was thankfully not far to the bed, just a few clumsy steps, though made a more difficult journey by how hard it was to keep his hands of Draco even for a moment now he finally had him. It seemed Draco felt similarly, not even turning around so he fell backwards onto the bed, Neville landing heavily on top.

“Sorry,” Neville whispered, peppering his narrow jaw with kisses, and travelling up to nibble on his earlobe.

Draco let out a little growl. He arched into Neville, who could now feel Draco’s erection.

“Can you get these fucking clothes off now please?” Draco panted.

Neville thought about teasing him, but realised it would be a ruinous decision — the longer he stalled, the longer before he got to see Draco naked, and he just couldn’t wait anymore. He leant back on the bed, pulled his jumper up over his head, his shirt with it. Beneath him, Draco hurriedly undid his own buttons, threw the shirt off.

Draco was just as gorgeous as he had imagined. Lithe and narrow, though his arms were more muscular than Neville had imagined.

“Holy shit, Neville,” Draco said, his voice thick with wine and, Neville hoped, lust. He reached a hand out, stroked down Neville’s torso.

Neville leant back down, feeling quite pleased with himself, and began to kiss him again, enjoying the taste and texture of him, the feeling of Draco’s naked body against his.

“Wait,” Draco said breathlessly. He pushed at Neville’s chest. Neville pulled back to look at him. “Have you ever…uh… Have you ever been with another guy?”

“Of course,” Neville said. “Haven’t you?”

Draco, much to Neville’s surprise, shook his head. “Uh, no.”

He drew away from Neville’s grasp, his face a constellation of embarrassment.

“Hey, that’s alright,” Neville said. “I’d be happy to show you the ropes.”

He leant down and kissed Draco again, hard on the lips, before trailing kisses down his cheek and onto his jaw. He nibbled at his neck, and smiled at the little gasp Draco gave.

As they kissed, Neville rolled onto his side, to better reach down and stroke Draco through his trousers. Draco gave a little shudder at first contact, and Neville grinned into the kiss. Draco’s movements were a little more hesitant. It was easy enough to let him set the pace. Neville thanked his lucky stars that he was naturally patient, because every fibre of his being wanted to do all the things to Draco right then and right there.

Clumsily, Draco undid Neville’s trousers, and pulled his cock out. His dick jerked at the first contact of skin-on-skin.

“Wow,” Draco said, pulling back to look at it. “That’s… Wow.”

Neville couldn’t help but grin, especially as Draco was staring at it while stroking slowly and curiously.

“Do you want to taste it?” Neville said. His breathlessness gave away his desire, he knew.

Draco’s eyes went wide. “I’d like to, but I…uh, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Try it,” he said. “Just do what you like when you’re getting sucked off.”

Draco seemed to think about this for a second, before nodding. He made his way down Neville’s body distressingly slowly, stopping to kiss at Neville’s chest and stomach as he went, his hands stroking tantalisingly lightly against his cock all the while. Neville could barely breathe by the time the Slytherin had made it down there.

He sighed when it was finally being kissed and licked and, finally, mercifully, sucked. He leant back, and enjoyed the building pleasure. Here, too, Draco was somewhat clumsy, but his enthusiasm and attentiveness was certainly making up for any lack of experience. It didn’t help that it had been an awful long time since last his dick was sucked, and he could barely take the warm pleasure flooding his veins.

He looked down, and let out a growl at the sight of Draco’s grey eyes looking up at him.

Part of him took some strange pleasure in the power he felt, to have the man who delighted in his misery, now with Neville’s cock between his lips, making little grunts of pleasure and whose eyes were clouded with naked lust. Neville tried to shake it away, but he knew he didn’t mean it unkindly, not really. It wasn’t like he was doing this to get one over on Draco.

Quite the opposite, because the other part of him could not get over the fact that such a beautiful man was sucking on his dick with such concentration, with such care and attention, as if it were his final NEWT exam. Neville reached down and ran a hand through Draco’s hair, trying to resist the urge to thrust up into his mouth. He would have to be gentle, careful.

“You’re doing amazing,” Neville breathed. He let out a little moan as Draco took time to nibble at the head of his cock. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Draco made a muffled noise in response, and rewarded the compliment with speeding up, bobbing up and down perfectly. Neville groaned, unable to resist grabbing a hold of Draco’s hair as he approached the edge. It wasn’t long before he spilled over, his whole body shuddering as he came in Draco’s mouth, his hips bucking and his vision blurring.

“How was that your first time,” he groaned as Draco crawled back up to lie beside him again. He was grinning, and Neville leaned over to kiss him, savouring the lingering taste of himself on his lips.

Draco gave a positively boyish shrug. “It was fun.”

Neville reached down between them, took Draco’s cock in his hand again and gave it a stroke. Draco let out something between a whimper and a moan, arching his hips into Neville’s palm.

“You really need release, huh?” Neville whispered. Draco nodded enthusiastically. He pulled his hand away. “And what if I don’t want to give it to you?”

“Please,” Draco whimpered, thrusting his hips towards him. He ran his hands down Neville’s chest, and up into his hair. “Please.”

Despite having only just cum, it was still incredibly hot to see Draco desperate for him like this.

He brought himself level with Draco’s crotch, and gave it one long lick. Draco shuddered beneath him.

“You want that? Is this what you want?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Draco whispered, his voice hoarse.

He arched towards Neville’s mouth, and as much as he wanted to watch Draco, wanton and besides himself, he also wanted to taste his cum. So he set to work learning every vein and fold and curve of Draco’s dick, rewarded in riches of moans and whimpers and Draco bucking his hips.

“Neville,” he groaned. “Fuck.”

Neville looked up at him, a beautiful sight from this vantage point. Draco was staring at him intently, though his eyes were glassy with desire. It was nice have Draco at his mercy here, for him to do with what he pleased. And what pleased him was to give him pleasure, to respond to the little shifts of his hips, to the hitches in his breath, until finally he drove Draco over the edge. He came, hot and plenty, and Neville swallowed every drop.

Neville crawled back up, lying back on the pillow and brushing his sweat-matted hair from his forehead. Draco was panting too.

“Shit, you’re good,” Draco said, turning to face him. “I want to get that good.”

Neville grinned. “There’s time to learn. You know, if you want to do this again.”

Draco startled next to him.

“I definitely do!” he said, his voice going up a octave.

“Great, because I really want to fuck you.” At Draco’s sharp intake of breath, he added: “If you’d like that, of course.”

“I would very much like that,” Draco said, a little too quickly. Clearly this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, which made Neville very happy indeed. Draco sighed, and propped his chin up on Neville’s chest, looking up at him. “Who knew we could’ve been doing this all along.”

“Mmmhm,” Neville groaned in agreement. “Christmas holidays is a good time to make up for lost time.”

Draco smirked. “I like the sound of that.”

Draco drew light circles on Neville’s chest. Quietly, so quiet Neville didn’t realise he was talking at first, he said: “You know, the shit I put you through. The things I did back then. I’m not proud of them, and I’m sorry. I really am.”

Neville sighed. Apparently he wouldn’t be able to put off these conversations until he was fully clothed, as he’d hoped. He met Draco’s gaze.

“I know you are. There’s still a lot we need to deal with,” Neville said, and reached out to run a hand over Draco’s cheek. “But that’ll take a lot of work.”

“I want to do that work,” Draco said quite seriously. “I really like you, Neville.”

Neville’s heart trilled in response but he tried to keep it off his face.

“Same here,” he said instead. Merlin, Pansy was right. He couldn’t just have sex. He’d known that was true, and yet he was still annoyed to be betrayed by his stupid heart being so happy at the possibility of more.

“So…” Draco said, trailing a hand down his stomach, “about this fucking.”

Neville grinned. “We can’t just jump to it, we’ll need to ease you in.”

“Right, but we couldn’t we start now?” Draco said, pouting.

“If you insist,” Neville said with mock exasperation.

He kissed Draco again, and once more wondered at the strange twist of fate that had brought them together, of all people.

**Author's Note:**

> To paraphrase the philosopher Blaise Pascal, I would have written something shorter if only I had more time.
> 
> Also, I think everyone should have a friend like Pansy.


End file.
